Mrs Potts' Pie Shop
by TrinJ
Summary: crossover fanfic of Sweeny Todd with Beauty and the Beast. Mrs Pott's Pie Shop, where Mrs Potts runs a human-meat-filled pie shop out the back door of the kitchens at the Beasts' castle (Post Curse) with Belle's father Maurice as delivery man. WARNING violent, gory and sometimes sexual themes herein
1. Chapter 1

**AN** **Hi everyone! This story is going to be gory so, as per the warning in the description, if you're not of an appropriate age or are disturbed by viscera flying everywhere, keep away! Might be some sexy times later on too. This is set in the same time period as Sweeny Todd. Let me know your thoughts in the comments! Thanks**

Cindy Potts sighed, her hands on her heavy hips, as she stared into the oven. There was nothing in the world so rewarding as watching suet pastries cook, with no filling leaking out, no soggy bottom and best of all, no high cost of meat. Because these were 'Mrs Potts' Pies'; a secret recipe that tasted somewhat like pork but with a softer, stringier texture. The meat was slow cooked with onions and other flavourful vegetables, enriching the sauce with nutrients and, more importantly, a taste rivalled by no other.

And it was a foolproof business plan. No health inspector – where there such a thing in these country parts? – was going to come looking around a private kitchen. And anyway, there was nothing to find. All bones and nasty bits were burned, ground and scattered into the forest. _Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, puff pastry, suet, and of course, short crust._

Pleased with her little rhyme, the portly woman opened the oven and pulled out the tray of two dozen pies, ready for the next batch to go in. Right on time, Maurice, Belle's father knocked on the back door and came in to put the previous batch in his cart. In the local town, the pies sold quicker when they were warm but of course not too warm, as the steam they created in the cart could make them soggy (this they had found out the hard way and it would NOT happen again).

Maurice was the one aspect of Mrs Potts 'foolproof' business model that concerned her. He was a good, solid worker despite his age, not a bad lover, but upstairs, the brain department was lacking. He was shoddy and bragged about the 'secret ingredient' too much, and of course his unconditional love for his daughter made him soppy when it came to grinding up women and putting them in pies. He wanted to keep things noble and use only what they called 'slop' – meat from people who were rapists, thieves, bullies or murderers too. But, as she had pointed out irritably, they were making pies, not becoming a crime fighting duo. They couldn't investigate burglaries every time the larder was empty. So they took who wouldn't be missed – the homeless, the insane, the shut-ins, those about to move away. And so far, they were making a pretty penny, the master of the house had no idea, and the population of the village stayed at a good level.

'Smells delicious if you don't know what it is, eh Mrs Potts?' Maurice grimaced. As of late, he had been showing more and more distaste for the venture, and Cindy worried. They would hang for this if caught, but she needed the money if her son Chip was to live a life outside of being a kitchen boy.

'That's all loaded up. See you tomorrow Mrs Potts' Maurice's words jerked her out of her reverie.

'Of course. Don't be late'. Maurice feigned offence, then went on his way. Cindy locked the doors behind him and had a cup of tea while she waited for the batch for tomorrow morning - which would be served cold, as workers would buy them on the way to work and then eat them cold for lunch anyway.

'Mrs Potts? I just wanted to go over next week's menu with you?' Belle, newly married to Prince Adam walked into the kitchen. Mrs Potts flushed a little. Belle wouldn't recognise the smell of human meat cooking if it smacked her in the face (as it was currently) but Mrs Potts liked her and if she asked for a pie there was no viable excuse why she could not have one. Best move her on somewhere else where the smell didn't linger.

'They smell lovely! It's so kind of you to use your spare time to cook for the homeless' Belle gushed, her usual excitable self.

'Thank you Ma'am. Shall we go in the other room? It's awfully hot in here' Mrs Potts gestured to the parlour, away from the oven.

'Of course'.

Once they were a little further from the kitchen, Cindy relaxed a little.

'We are throwing a party next month to make a special announcement so we were wondering if you could make some special dishes for it? Not a feast as such, just a table of food where people can go and help themselves, as we did for the Prince's birthday?'

'Of course, how exciting! What is the occasion, may I ask?' Mrs Potts stifled a yawn, expecting the response to be something about a visiting dignitary. But Belle blushed and looked at her hands.

'Well…it's early days yet so we don't want to tell anyone until then but..well, I'm expecting'. Belle rubbed her stomach a little which, now that she was sitting down and her dress fell different, Mrs Potts could notice was a little rounded.

'Oh Ma'am! How exciting! Oh this is such happy news!'

'Well that's something else I'd like to speak to you about Mrs Potts' Belle, flushed, smiled encouragingly at the older woman. Cindy gulped. She could tell something big was coming and she hoped to God that it wouldn't affect the business. She needed the money. She might spend her whole life in service, but Chip wouldn't. He was too bright for that, he was going to go to school with the pie money, she would see to that.

'We would love to move you out of the kitchens and have you looking after the baby, you've got such a good hand with Chip and you're not getting any younger and the trays in the kitchen are heavy and so on-'

Belle droned on but Mrs Potts barely heard her. There was no way she could abandon the pie business. But there was no way she could tell the master she didn't want to look after his baby. And there was no guarantee that the new cook wouldn't find a knuckle bone or the like that had fallen down the back of the cooker….

She was royally up the shit creek without a paddle.

 _To be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

Belle

I wonder why Mrs Potts wants time to think about our proposal. She must be struggling with those heavy pots and pans, and when they catered for large parties, Belle knew it wiped her out completely. With the added stress of feeding the homeless with those tasty-smelling pies, Mrs Potts must have been exhausted. The idea of moving to the nursery – where she would have at least two other maids under her – should have been insanely attractive. But so far, Belle saw no indication that she wanted to move. It would mean so much to Beast – Belle giggled. It was so hard to think of him as Adam. Oftentimes, in their own company, she would slip up and call him Beast. On these occasions, when she peeked up at him through her eyelashes in embarrassment, he would have a somewhat amused, bitter look on his face and she hated that his previous condition still caused him – the both of them – so much pain. But it was the Beast she had fallen in love with and it had been strange getting used to this new body. Although, things that had been forbidden with 'Beast' were now allowed, encouraged even, by Adam and his delectable body.

Belle's heart started thumping, a reaction to thoughts that she felt almost guilty thinking now that her body was shared by another. Rubbing her stomach thoughtfully, she didn't register Adam approaching her silently from behind.

"Belle?" She shrieked, one hand on her heart.

"My god, Adam you scared me. Hah" She held up a finger meaning that she needed a minute; he really had startled her and her heart was beating faster than was comfortable.

"Oh no I'm sorry, are you alright?" His eyes bloomed with concern, a hand half reaching towards her.

Belled nodded. "I'm fine you just startled me. And the baby". She took his hand and placed it on her rounded stomach. Belle closed her eyes and felt the kick of their baby against her belly, and his hand feeling it too. It felt safe, and connected. Like after everything – Gaston, and her father being accused on insanity, and falling in love with some beast she could not have - she was finally home.

"I…Belle…That's amazing". Her husband seemed lost for words, moved by the feel of his heir, alive and well inside her. It was amazing.

"I know. I can't wait to meet her".

"Or him!" The beast – Adam- stuck his tongue out at her. They had no idea of the child's sex, and really they didn't mind, but whatever Belle said interchangeably – him or her – her prince would say the opposite. It was their little joke.

"How long now? I am so excited to meet our baby!" Belle huffed. Whilst her husband may have been feeling only joy and impatience, she was feeling heavy, swollen, constantly needing to excuse herself to the bathroom and achey. But of course, she was delighted to be carrying their child. She only wished that even for ten minutes she could feel normal again.

"I'm not as far along as you seem to think Adam, it will be a while yet. I know you're excited but you need to slow down. This is very new for me…and I'm afraid". Belle broke eye contact for the last part of her speech. Her husband didn't seem to know much about pregnancy, having lost his parents very young. Whilst he seemed to know what he was doing in the bedroom, Belle assumed this was mostly instinct and that he really didn't know much about pregnancy and childbirth at all.

"Scary? Belle…what do you mean?! You're not pleased to be having our baby?!"

Oh no. He was going to have one of his fits of bad temper again. They had spoken about these – they assumed it was a residue of the curse, although Belle suspected he was generally impatient anyway, and once Adam was worked up there was nothing much that could be done to calm him down until it had run its course.

"Of course I am, don't be silly. I love you and this baby. And I'm excited to meet him or her too, but I don't think you understand what I'm going to go through over the next few months-"

-"if you didn't want to bear my children then you shouldn't have married me Belle". His words carried venom that struck Belle's previously happy, broody mood, like poisoned arrows.

She watched as her husband marched off, swiping vases full of roses, her favourite flower, onto the floor on his way.

The commotion got further and further away until she could no longer hear it, but she knew he would be in the West Wing, smashing anything that got in his way.

A few minutes of silence passed. Belle closed her eyes and counted to ten slowly, rubbing her stomach. All this stress was not good for the baby. She had no nurse, seeing as Mrs Potts had basically refused, the nursery was not finished, she had no midwife, nor anyone who seemed to know much about babies, her father was so distant that she had not even told him she was expecting, and a husband who threw fits of rage whenever she tried to confide in him. This was not good.

A thick French accent broke her silent horror.

"Mistress? What on earth can be the matter?" The recently transformed man approached her, putting down his tray of empty glasses collected from the study next door, and taking her hands in his in an unexpected show of affection.

"Oh Lumiere" Belle sobbed. Where could she begin?

Adam

"there is no way you can be serious!" The beast – Adam – shrieked. Mrs Potts glanced at Lumiere, a look that indicated she was not pleased at having to give her master a little lesson in the facts of life.

"I'm afraid so master. Ask any woman who has had children and she will tell you it is no game". Adam blanched.

"but if it is so awful, why do people have so many?...Ah…I see". He blushed, feeling, for the thousandth time, incredibly embarrassed at his ignorance. What had he done?! He had hurt her! But she felt so good…and when they both found out she was expecting, they were so happy! How could she be happy knowing she was going to go through…well. What Mrs Potts had said she was going to go through. He knew where babies came from – and how they were born. But he hadn't quite expected the graphic, disturbing detail that Mrs Potts and another maid who had had children described.

"Your majesty, if I may be so bold-"

"-Please Lumiere, where would I be if you hadn't been?!". Adam motioned for him to continue.

"Her majesty knows all of this, and she knew that in marrying you and being a true wife to you that children would occur at some point. She loves you very much and she is uncomfortable carrying your child. Might I suggest that you pamper her – a bubble bath, a massage, some words of comfort and love would not go amiss I think".

The beast chewed on a chicken leg Mrs Potts had heated up for him. Lumiere was always right when it came to the art of romance.

"Alright. I will do as you suggest. Can you have some warm milk and a dinner of cold meats and so on delivered to our room at seven?"

Lumiere and Mrs Potts exchanged looks.

"of course Master. And you would like the bath to be filled?" Lumiere replied, a gleam in his eye.

"Yes, with some bubbles and nice smelling things if we have them. Rose petals or something".

"Of course master"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN this has some very mature content, please do not read if you are underage or uncomfortable with this.**

Mrs Potts.

Seeing as dinner was a simple plate of cold meats tonight , that meant Mrs Potts could use more of the kitchen to prepare her special pies. Business was never better, and she was profiting nicely. Of course Maurice had his share, presumably that he used to pay his rent in that pitiful cottage and now he would probably save for the odd present for his grandchild. Unless he didn't know that they were expecting? Belle had said they weren't going to tell anyone yet. Mrs Potts assumed that meant Maurice too.

Speaking of the devil, here he was, right on time.

"How much longer on these? They don't look done to me, Cindy". He rarely called her that unless he was in the mood for some mischief.

"I had a problem with the last batch. Smelled funny" Mrs Potts answered.

"Might have been that Englishman. I don't know if foreigners have a different taste" Maurice joked. Mrs Potts shrugged and ran a hand over his unshaven face.

"Might well have been" she murmured, not looking at his eyes but running a finger along the waistband of his trousers.

"Ah…how long until they are done?" His face took on the look that Cindy knew only too well. He was hungry – not for pies, but for her.

"I'd say at least twenty minutes. How shall we entertain ourselves? I do hope we won't get bored…" With that, she shoved him roughly against the greasy wall of the kitchen, ignoring his moan of half pleasure, half pain when she bit his tongue. She wanted it rough, dirty and hard, and this unmarried inventor turned human-meat-pie delivery man could give it to her well enough.

They wandered into her office and she sat on her desk, her legs openly wrapped around him aggressively. He attended to her with his fingers while she ravished his neck, biting and sucking when he found her sensitive spots. There was no love here, only lust, and sex fuelled by their mutual dislike of each other. She was wet for him, ready for him to plunge into her and not stop until she found her release. His orgasm was secondary to her desires, a by-product of what she wanted. Like making a delicious pie and using the left over pastry for whatever.

Maurice

 _I hate this woman_ , he thought as his plunged his sizeable cock deep into her. They might have been over forty but they still knew how to take advantage of a good, hard, hate-filled fuck. They understood each other – this was just business. The malicious woman ran her long, sharp nails down his back as she came, her inner ring constricting around his penis as she cried out expletives that, in another context would have repelled him. The woman was bewitching.

"AHH" he cried out, on the edge of orgasm. Cindy seemed to know, she suddenly pushed him away, a devilish grin in her eyes.

"You're not done yet. I want more. Give it to me". She had done this so many times – got him so close to exploding inside her, then pushing him away and insisting he pleasure her until she had her fill. Then he could come. Sometimes inside her, sometimes not. She had him wrapped around her little finger, and everytime they parted, no matter how satisfied he felt, he swore it would be the last time. But it never was.

Maurice lapped her, holding her skirts above his head like some deranged theatre show. Inserting a finger, swollen from manual labour over the years, he rubbed her innermost folds until he felt her constrict, her hands knotting in his hair as he simultaneously massaged her sensitive spot with his tongue.

"Ahhh" she exhaled, and with it, she moistened.

"Please" he murmured, twisting a finger inside her and wishing it was his cock.

"Ask me again" she panted, enjoying the feel of him inside her.

"Please".

"Yes". He plunged into her, barely containing himself as he moved, faster, harder, rougher until she almost drew blood raking her nails down his chest, then clutching his back so hard he was sure it was in shreds.

And then he came. Pumping himself, once, twice, three times into her as his come gushed inside her.

They stayed in their positions, him going soft inside her, her now lying back on the desk, panting and soaked in sweat and their combined fluids.

Then the buzzer went, to inform them that the pies were done and it was time to distribute the flesh of their fellow humans to the honest working men of the French streets. Maurice shuddered. He wasn't sure how much longer he could do this.


End file.
